


Like Moths to a Flame

by AvengedInk



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender, The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, Bending (Avatar), Crossover, F/F, F/M, Inspired by Avatar: The Last Airbender, Post-Avatar: The Last Airbender
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25742356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvengedInk/pseuds/AvengedInk
Summary: Lexa is the crowned princess of the Fire Nation.Clarke is promised to a man she doesn't love.It's not a story that ends well. But in the shadows of the moon, where no one can see them... Lexa cares just a little bit less.
Relationships: Anya/Raven Reyes, Clarke Griffin & Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Finn Collins/Clarke Griffin, Octavia Blake/Lincoln
Comments: 26
Kudos: 93





	1. Lexa

Lexa had never seen so much ice in her life.

Granted, she’d never traveled this far from the equator, but laying eyes on the snow and ice -- the bow of her ship cutting through miles and miles of frigid black water -- was a very different matter than simply reading about it.

She understood, now, why the Fire Nation had failed to capture the Northern Water Tribe in the Hundred Year War. Even as the sun warmed her robes and the side of her face, she was the farthest out of her element she’d ever been; surrounded by a sea that should swallow her on principle.

In the generations since the war, it had been an uphill battle to mend fences with the other three nations. People were not quick to forget the villages burned and lives lost to power-hungry dictators. They were also not quick to forget the same blood that ran through Lexa’s veins… the same curse of fire that burned at the tips of her fingers. She never forgot, at least.

But it was excitement she felt burning in her, at the moment. The excitement of travel and adventure, restrained by the weight of duty. At seventeen, this trip was the first real thing her father had entrusted her with: To attend the annual End of War Festival at the Northern Water Tribe, in good faith. Her fleet had come stocked with traditional Fire Nation foods and wines, and she’d spent months with an expert learning the culture. A Fire Nation ship had not returned North since the siege that nearly killed the Moon Spirit. She wasn’t sure what kind of welcome she would receive.

The Northern chief, Abigail, had a reputation that preceded her. A prodigious healer and fighter, she’d married into the royal family at sixteen and hand-trained many of the world’s great waterbenders. She’d also established healthy trade deals with both her sister tribe to the South and the Earth Kingdom.

On the other hand, the chief was quick to criticize the Fire Nation’s efforts at reparations and known for her steely demeanor. In fact, her targeted barbs at the Fire Nation’s “millenia of violent, patriarchal control” was the reason Lexa’s father had abdicated from the festival and sent her in his stead. The Northern Water Tribe was a mecca for trade and, even more so, knowledge; the strongest healers resided behind its icy walls. Establishing a positive relationship with the chief was an enormous responsibility, and Lexa was determined to fulfill it.

The sound of nimble steps pulled her from her thoughts, and she turned to see her advisor, Anya. A tall, lean woman decked in an officer’s uniform, she struck an intimidating figure. The top part of her hair was gathered in a traditional and severe topknot, while the sides were braided away from her face in a style similar to Lexa’s.

“I missed you for dinner, squid,” she said, leaning against the balcony railing and sending Lexa a pointed stare. “This is the third night in a row.”

Lexa waved her off. “I’ll have it sent to me later. Gus won’t leave my side on the mess deck, and Indra bit my head off the last time I forgot to say prayer.”

“Lexa, it’s imperative that you master water tribe--”

“--tradition, I know. Believe me, I know. But short of the spirits magically gifting me with waterbending, I’m not sure this will look like anything more than posturing.”

“What it will look like,” Anya said, “is respect. And we need all the help we can get with Chief Abigail.”

Lexa couldn’t argue with that. She’d poured over every piece of information on Chief Abigail that was available to her, searching for some connection, some triviality that would give her an advantage. But there was precious little to be known about the chief and her family. Her husband, Jake, came from a long line of chiefs and was well-loved for his easy demeanor and progressive policy. He’d fought against the tradition of marrying off water tribe girls at age 16, although the law was still in place.

Despite what was expected of her, Lexa could hardly imagine what it was like to bear that responsibility.

Jake had died young, and Abigail had never remarried. They had a single daughter, Clarke, who Lexa knew even less of. The only mention of her came in the missive about the festival -- the first invitation the Fire Nation had received from the Northern Water Tribe in over 300 years.

_“You are cordially invited to the Northern Water Tribe’s 200th annual End of War Festival. You may come prepared with a fleet of no more than 25 of your finest ships. This year, the festival coincides with Princess Clarke’s coming-of-age and union ceremony. Thus, a celebration of how far the four nations have come in these many years seems appropriate…”_

If it was an olive branch, it was abrupt. But it seemed even more dangerous to ignore the invitation than to take it up.

“Look, Lex, it’s going to be okay,” Anya ventured, after a long moment of silence. “What’s the worst that can happen? She goes back to icing us out? Waterbenders are great at that, or so I’ve heard.”

Lexa sighed. “Something tells me she could do a lot worse.”

“I’m not going to let you mope around your quarters the whole week,” Anya said, effectively changing the subject. “So here’s how this will go: You’re going to take your royal ass down to the mess deck, you’re going to eat your dinner, and you’re going to smile when Indra tells you that you chew like a platypus bear. Got it?”

Lexa rolled her eyes, but smiled despite herself. “I could have you thrown overboard for insubordination, you know.”

Anya scoffed. “Oh, please, we both know I’m your father’s favorite.”

~~

The mess deck roared with laughter and music -- the distant sound of a soongi horn echoing off the walls -- and Lexa was flanked by her personal guard, Gustus, as soon as she entered the room. The smell of meats and spices was strong, and reminded her of home.

“A little late for dinner, isn’t it?” Indra eyed her disapprovingly as she sat at the head of the main table. A plate full of steaming salmon and greens was immediately placed in front of her.

“I see you’re still here,” Lexa shot back. She didn’t have much of an appetite, but it would boost the crew’s morale to see her eating here with them. She wasn’t the only one apprehensive about setting foot in the Northern Water Tribe.

“Shush, you two,” Anya chided, sliding into an empty seat to Lexa’s right. “The show is about to start.”

At that, Lexa eyed her in confusion -- _What show?_ \-- but her attention was quickly drawn to the front of the room, where the soongi hornist was being ushered off the stage by two burly sailors. The sailors were dressed down compared to the upper deck’s officers and Lexa’s guards, and she took a moment to appraise them. A defining feature was their knee-high, black-and-gold boots, which she supposed protected their feet from water. They wore thick grey trousers, and most of them appeared to be donning black undershirts with red stitching. Hair was haphazardly gathered in back-of-the-neck ties, and beards were unkempt. It was clear that they ate apart from the upperdecksmen.

She noted, with a ripple of displeasure, that she didn’t know any of their names.

But she did recognize the two figures making their way onto the stage. One of them was clearly a sailor on the main deck, while the other wore the slim dress shoes and padded uniform of an officer. But their eyes were startlingly blue, their skin a shade darker, and the officer’s hair was worn in a traditional Southern Water Tribe style -- sheared off at his nape and temples. The sailor, on the other hand, wore her hair in long braids, and Lexa could just make out the gleaming charm of a betrothal necklace.

These people, she knew, were handpicked for the journey. With roots in the Southern Water Tribe, their families had settled in the Fire Nation sometime after the war; they were a perfect blend of cultures, and a perfect introduction to the Northern tribe.

They were also somewhat of an enigma to the rest of the crew, who had had little to no contact with any water tribe members, let alone waterbenders.

Yes, they were waterbenders. Lexa could see it in the way they walked. It was as if each step flowed into the next -- there was an ease and comfort that told Lexa they belonged at sea. And, she realized, their waterbending was going to be the show. They squared off against each other with matching smirks, and the crowd rallied encouragingly: officers hollering for the man, Hasook, and sailors screaming for the woman, Kori.

Lexa wondered what she’d missed the past two nights.

Kori struck first, with a sweeping backflip that reminded Lexa of firebending. Her head and arms tucked tightly into her body while her legs flew through the air, pulling moisture out of nothing. The water-whip lashed out to grab Hasook, who skated to avoid it and sent a volley of icey missiles in response.

A giant, roaring wall of water crashed up to block them and quickly morphed to solid ice, the missiles glancing off like raindrops. Kori had disappeared, and a hush fell over the crowd as Hasook stood rooted to the ground, eyes flashing.

Suddenly, the wall of ice shattered, turning into a battering ram and charging straight for Hasook. Windmilling his arms, Hasook sent discs of water spinning toward it, while it danced away from each one with all the precision of a ballerina. Lexa could just make out Kori’s eyes from within it -- her hair plastered to her cheeks.

The two waterbenders could’ve been entangled in an Agni Kai, as far as she could tell. The passion in their steps and the sweeping, burning style of fighting they employed. It was the mark of growing up in the Fire Nation, she assumed. But their power came from the sea, the impending night. She could feel the connection between them growing stronger with each attack. They were almost like magnets, clashing together one second and ricocheting apart the next.

As she watched them, something stirred within her. But it wasn’t like the heat in her belly before she made fire. She tore her eyes away to glance down at her thumb, which she flicked like a lighter -- the smallest of flames licking at her fingertip in response.

No, it wasn’t like that. But before she could pinpoint the feeling, Kori’s ice-encased fist made contact with the side of Hasook’s head, and he fell in a heap to the floor. It was violent and crude compared to the usual elegance of a waterbender, but the raucous group of sailors yelled their approval. After a moment, Hasook stumbled to his feet to shake her hand.

Lexa was startled by Anya’s hand on her shoulder.

“Come on, Commander, you should get up to bed. You’ll see plenty of waterbending when we dock on Monday.”


	2. Clarke

Her fingers traced the charm at the base of her neck. The face of it -- recently carved -- was smooth and cool to the touch, the design swirling in a pattern she wasn’t yet familiar with. The traditional blue silk fastening seemed to chafe at her skin. 

It was suffocating. 

She stared at her reflection in the basin. Her blond hair was pulled back at the temples while the rest cascaded in waves down her shoulders. Her blue eyes shone the same color as the spring water. All of that was normal. What wasn’t normal was the betrothal necklace shimmering at her throat, reminding her of everything she couldn’t do and everything she’d have to. 

Clarke liked Finn. Really. He was a nice guy. Charming, even. She found him a lot more charming at thirteen, when his flirtations were as innocent and passing as the icy flowers he’d leave at her window. When he kissed her cheek for the first time, it gave her butterflies. 

Now, it left a pit of dread swirling in her stomach. 

She didn’t know why she hadn’t seen it coming. Maybe it was the illusion of Jake’s protection -- his ongoing appeal of the marriage laws that only ended when he died last year. Maybe, she’d thought naively, her mother wouldn’t want her to go through the same thing she had: a forced marriage on her sixteenth birthday, a legacy she never asked for. There were all these ways her mother broke boundaries -- first female chief of the Northern Water Tribe, waterbending master second in skill to only the infamous Katara. But, they only seemed to root her more deeply in tradition. “This is what we do, Clarke,” she’d told her, the night Finn proposed. “When you become the next chief, you’ll need a strong man at your side and children to carry the line.” 

_“This is what we do.”_

Nevermind what Clarke wanted to do. 

It was a sharp juxtaposition from her father, who’d only ever encouraged her passion for art and adventure. At age seven, when she told him she wanted to be a street artist in Republic City, he only smiled. “Just remember me when you’re rich and famous and lazy as a tiger seal,” he teased. 

It was painful to think about, now. She often daydreamed about finding her own stranger encased in ice, like Katara had, and being whisked away to places she didn’t know the names of. It wasn’t impossible. There was no Hundred Year War, and she wasn’t completely isolated from the other nations, but it had been decades since the last avatar died, and the Order of the White Lotus had yet to locate the new one. 

But she knew it was ridiculous to imagine finding the avatar -- or the avatar finding her -- and abandoning her duties to travel the world. In any case, the new avatar was unlikely to have a flying bison just lying around. No, they’d probably have a giant rhinoceros beetle, or a komodo rhino. Or -- and this was just her luck -- an aardvark sloth. Yeah, it’d probably be an aardvark sloth, and then she could accept her fate of marriage and babies and yearly galas. The only thing more dangerous than accepting it was daring to hope for something different. 

So Clarke stared into the water and tried to think about how it wouldn’t be so bad, being married to Finn. 

“Hey, Princess!” 

Clarke looked up to see her friend, Octavia, enter through the arched doorway, a grin on her face. She had dark hair, like most of the other waterbenders, that was weaved into traditional braids. 

Octavia came from one of the noble families; she had many of the same responsibilities as Clarke, but on a much smaller level. She and Clarke had known each other since they were small children. She was also a year younger, as evidenced by the lack of a betrothal necklace around her throat. Her older brother, Bellamy, was a junior member on the tribe’s council and recently married to a healer named Echo. Clarke found his arrogance insufferable -- typical male waterbender -- but he was like family, and so was Octavia.

“What are you doing here so early?” Octavia said, collapsing cross-legged on the ice next to Clarke. “I know you’re not here for the extra practice.” 

Clarke subtly tucked the charm of her necklace into her collar, hoping Octavia wouldn’t notice. She knew, of course, about the engagement. But talking about it made it worse, somehow. Especially because Octavia was just so _excited_ about getting married. 

“You saw my mom the last time I was late -- I’m not taking that chance again,” Clarke said, rolling her eyes at the memory. The weekly healing class was mandatory for all female waterbenders below the age of sixteen, and some still chose to attend even after they’d come of age. It was the mark of a good water tribe woman to be a healer, and a great privilege to learn from someone like Abby. 

Healing, like everything else, was something Clarke was expected to be _better_ at. Not just because she was the princess, but because she was Abby’s daughter. The truth was, she was a gifted healer. She just didn’t like it. She’d prefer to be making sculptures out of ice or learning how to defend herself in a fight. 

The thought of female pro benders in the Republic City arena, or even the female nobility of the Fire Nation, made Clarke go green with envy. Instead, she was stuck here, living -- quite literally -- in the ice age. 

“You’re not still upset about the engagement, are you?” Octavia asked inquisitively. “It won’t be as bad as you think. Finn’s a good guy. If you asked, I bet you could put off kids for a while too. I know he likes your art.” 

Clarke sighed. “That’s the thing, Octavia, I shouldn’t have to ask someone to put off having kids. And I shouldn’t have to marry someone just because it’s my birthday next month. In the Southern tribe--” 

“It doesn’t matter how they do things in the South. Look, I know you don’t like it, but we live here. And if you really hate the marriage laws, Clarke, then _change them._ Change them for the future of the tribe, when you’re chief. Because you get to have that power.” 

Clarke bit her lip in frustration, because she knew Octavia was right. 

Before she could reply, a group of students shuffled in, taking their seats around the semicircle. She recognized Echo from the throng, and gave a small wave when they made eye contact. Each girl had a basin of water in front of her, like Clarke. As more of them arrived, idle chatter filled the room. Clarke could pick out words here and there. She even heard her name a few times. 

“Did you _see_ the necklace he carved her? She’s so lucky, being promised to someone like Finn.” 

At that, she glanced over, finding the face of a young waterbender named Charlotte. As soon as Charlotte caught her looking, she blushed scarlet and averted her eyes. Clarke sighed again. 

A hush fell over the room as an older woman ducked inside, closing the door behind her. She was regal and imposing, with elegant cheekbones framed by dirty blond hair. Intricate braids sat high on her head. She smiled warmly at the group of girls; her gaze pausing lightly on Clarke before it was directed elsewhere. 

“Good morning, girls,” Abby greeted. 

“Good morning, Chief Abby,” the group responded. 

Abby smiled again, then clapped her hands together before sitting down. “Now, who can demonstrate the technique we started on last week?” 

~~

When the lesson ended, Clarke quickly stood up, stretching out the aches in her muscles from sitting too long. Her hands were tired from the meticulous work, but still buzzing with residual healing energy. Octavia’s grin had returned since their mini-argument. The girl had a love for healing that was unmatched by anything, Clarke thought, except for maybe Lincoln. 

“Clarke,” Abby called, from the front of the room. “Please stay behind for a word.” 

Clenching her jaw, Clarke offered a tight-lipped smile to Octavia and side-hugged her before the other girl gathered her things and left. Slowly, the room emptied. 

When there was no one left but her and Abby, Clarke approached, wringing her hands nervously. Their last conversation had been more of a fight -- when Abby told her the wedding would take place on the day of her birthday. “You can’t even wait a day?” Clarke remembered shouting through her tears. “You can’t wait a day before marrying me off to your agenda?” She had been avoiding her in the days following, slipping out of the palace in the morning light, putting all her hours into her art before she’d be too busy for it. 

“You asked for me?” Clarke piped up, worrying her lip. She really didn’t want to start another fight. They were usually more pain than they were worth. 

Abby’s cool gaze washed over her as the healer looked up from her work. In her lap, a tiny polar bear pup was curled up, its nose tinged pink from illness. Abby’s hands glowed as she engulfed it again with healing water. 

They typically worked with plants, if they were practicing direct healing, so the sick pup had been a welcome surprise in the classroom. 

“Yes,” Abby replied, her attention focused back on the pup. “I wanted to discuss the festival with you. As you know, it starts two weeks before your birthday.” 

“Hmm,” Clarke acknowledged, not wanting to talk about her birthday again. 

“And as you know, we have new guests this year. Of course, there’s the royal court of Ba Sing Se; the Kyoshi Warriors; the Republic City Council; I invited all the airbenders, and the noble families of the Southern tribe. But I’ve just received news from the Fire Nation.” 

Clarke’s eyebrows shot up. She knew her mother had sent invite to the Fire Lord and his noblemen, and this wasn’t the first time she wondered _why._ The Fire Nation had killed many of their people -- nearly destroyed the Moon Spirit and driven their sister tribe to extinction. It wasn’t a rare or unpopular opinion to dislike them. Many on the council admired Abby for her frank contempt in regard to the Fire Nation. So, it came as a shock when she announced they would be joining the End of War celebrations. 

“The Fire Lord has selected his daughter, Princess Lexa, to lead their party,” Abby continued. Her face set in a slight frown, the only betrayal of her opinion. 

“He’s not coming?” Clarke asked curiously. She was no politician, but it seemed impertinent to send his seventeen-year-old daughter to a meeting of the four nations, even if it was a festival.

“It appears that way.” 

“Clarke,” Abby said, the glowing water fading from her hands and into the basin. “I would like you to represent the Northern Water Tribe when Princess Lexa arrives. Meet her, give her a tour of the city, and show her to her accommodations. You’re to interact with her throughout the festival. Make sure she has a good impression."

“What?” Clarke eyed her mother even more carefully this time, suspicious. “Why? Why wouldn’t you do this?” 

Abby sighed and rose to her feet, cradling the polar bear dog in her arms. “You know how I feel about firebenders. And, more importantly, this festival is your birthright. I know you’re not… completely happy with my choices, but you will be chief one day, and you will understand. Cultivating this relationship with the Fire Nation is the first step of many you will make for this tribe.” 

Leaning forward, Abby transferred the pup into Clarke’s embrace. 

“An early wedding present.” The older woman smiled. 

A peace offering, Clarke realized. To please or pacify her, she didn’t know. 

“Thanks, mom.” 

She stared down at the pup -- so little he hadn’t yet opened his eyes. Soft, white fur tickled at her wrists where she touched him. As he let out a mewl, yawning and burrowing into her chest, she felt her first spark of happiness since Finn proposed. The rest, she thought, she’d deal with later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Lexa

The memory of the waterbenders dueling kept Lexa up late into the night. Their bodies had turned and twisted through forms Lexa had practiced all her life, yet the element they controlled was foreign to her. 

Fire and water. By nature, they were opposites. But watching the water ark through the air and solidify into ice had washed Lexa in a warm feeling, leaving her whole body tingling uncomfortably. 

Eventually, the tingling wore off, and she fell into a dream. 

She recognized it as a dream immediately. In fact, she’d trained herself to lucid dream, but when she tried to move her hands they hung limply at her sides. It was a memory, then -- something she could not control. 

She sat in a high chair in the palace kitchen, watching sunlight flicker through the shutters and humming to the tune of an old nursery rhyme. A figure came into vision, and Lexa instinctively knew it was her mother; it had to be. The woman was tall and slender, with dark hair that fell to the middle of her back. But even as Lexa concentrated, she couldn’t make out her face. The area where her eyes should be was shrouded in murky white fog as thick as oatmeal, and even when Lexa squinted really hard, she could only see the barest hints of a smile upon the woman’s lips. 

_ Who are you?  _ Lexa wanted to say.  _ Why did you leave?  _

But the woman bustled around the kitchen, not hearing her unspoken words, and instead washing dishes and performing other mundane tasks that Lexa was sure the kitchen staff could do. 

Lexa thought it was a special kind of torture, dreaming of the mother she couldn’t properly remember. Every time she woke up, her eyes ached like they’d strained all night, trying to trace the features of an unknown face. The first few times, she’d asked her father for a picture, a painting, a memory -- anything to fill up that white fog. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he’d always answer. “You’re much more like me, anyway.” 

She had inherited his green-gold eyes and his strong physique. But her skin was a little darker, her hair a little lighter, her cheeks a little rounder. That had to have come from somewhere. 

She looked on as the dream-mother came closer, carrying a plate piled with breakfast food and a cup of water. 

“Here you go, my little firebender,” said her mother’s voice, floating from an unseen mouth. 

The plate made it securely to the table, but when her mother set the cup down, Lexa’s tiny little toddler fist knocked it to the side. There was a loud noise -- presumably, the wooden cup falling to the floor -- but instead of bending down to pick it up, Lexa’s mom stood motionless. Was she angry? Shocked? Upset? It was impossible to tell without her face. 

And then Lexa saw why. All the water that had been in the cup was hovering mid-air in front of Lexa’s closed fist. It shimmered in the sunlight, molding itself into an orb, before hardening into a thick ball of ice. Lexa heard her toddler-self giggle. 

The kitchen evaporated as her dream changed, and suddenly she was wrapped in blankets, cracking open an eye as light spilled into a dark room. 

A figure shrouded in robes entered the room, tugging Lexa into a sitting position and leaning close. 

“Lexa, please, my love, listen to me,” the figure said. It was the same voice from the kitchen -- her mother’s. 

“Everything I’ve done, I’ve done to protect you.” The voice was thick with emotion. Lexa was swept into a quick, tight hug, before the figure hurried away, shutting the door behind her. 

Even though she knew it was a dream, a false memory, a tight fist still closed around Lexa’s heart and squeezed so hard that tears stung her eyes.  _ Mom?  _ The voice in her head echoed hopelessly. 

_ Where are you? _

Lexa woke with a start, groaning at the familiar ache in her eyes. She hated the dreams about her mother, mostly because they didn’t make sense. She knew her mother had left when she was four -- that much her father had told her. But it seemed to be a painful topic for him, and he would never say much more. 

The memory of her mother rushing into her room in the middle of the night to say goodbye… well, it couldn’t be real. She’d read the historical texts, like every young firebender, and she knew it was Fire Lord Zuko’s experience. How his mother, Ursa, had left him. It couldn’t be her own. 

The memory in the kitchen disturbed her just as much. Who could have controlled that water and turned it into ice? As she pondered it, Lexa’s eyes caught on the cup at her bedside table, and her fingers clenched involuntarily.  _ Move,  _ her inner voice commanded the water.  _ Move, now!  _

Of course, nothing happened. 

She’d tried more times than she could count, going cross-eyed from the effort, but she simply was not a waterbender. She just wished she could explain the strange dreams, or at least know why they were plaguing her. 

The door to her quarters burst open, leaving Lexa no more room for thought. She rolled upright on instinct, unsheathing the dagger she kept under her pillow. But it was only Anya who emerged from the dark, carrying a small torch to light her way. There was a faint pre-dawn light glowing at the edges of the doorway. 

“Get up, Lexa,” Anya said, her voice tight. “You need to attend to this.” 

Pulling on her boots and formal robes, Lexa shoved her hand into her hair and quickly secured it in a topknot. At the same time, Anya grabbed the royal headpiece from its place on the table and fit it snugly onto Lexa’s head. The older girl nodded once. “Let’s go.” 

She set a fast pace down the hallway, and soon they were flanked by both Gustus and Indra, as well as a handful of officers from Lexa’s personal guard. Their faces were grim, and the seed of worry that had bloomed in Lexa’s gut was growing heavier. 

When they burst out onto the mess deck, Lexa saw the problem. 

Two faces peered down at her from the stage. They were white and lifeless, skewered by torch poles. Their eyes had sunk deep into their sockets and their mouths were open and bloodied. One of them Lexa knew as Hasook -- the officer who’d waterbended last night. The other face was mangled beyond recognition. 

When she tore her eyes away, Lexa focused instead on the three men who knelt before her, their hands bound behind their backs. The man in the middle stared at her with dark, angry eyes, his mouth quivering into a hateful sneer. 

“Gustus found them minutes ago, trying to dispose Kori’s body into the sea,” Anya explained, loud enough so that what few officers had gathered on the deck could hear. 

“It seems they ambushed Kori and Hasook in the safety of their quarters before dragging them away to be murdered.” Lexa’s stomach turned at the thought and she struggled not to be sick. 

“Then,” Anya continued, “they strung their heads up on pikes, for all to see. What say you, Karrow?” 

She had addressed the man in the middle with the sneer on his face, who Lexa now recognized as a distant cousin. 

“I say they got what they deserved,” he spat. Lexa gazed on in horror as officers and sailors alike began to trickle onto the deck, sensing a commotion. Some of them ran to the side of the ship to be sick, but Karrow’s words carried over the noise of the swelling crowd. 

“Waterbenders are scum. Our ancestors knew it. They planned to eradicate the lesser beings from our world, but the traitor prince helped the avatar save them. And now this princess,” he jabbed his chin at Lexa, “this product of a tainted bloodline, dares to sail us to the brutes’ lands to grovel at the feet of their leader. I won’t have it!” 

The deck had grown deadly silent at Karrow’s outburst. Lexa watched him without comment. There was a cold fury building in her chest, tamping down her nausea and hardening her resolve. 

“There are those of us who still follow the old ways.” His dark eyes swept around the deck. “Those of us who will restore proper balance to the nations. Air, water, and earth exist to serve us, or be destroyed in fiery vengeance. As firebenders, this is your birthright. Your cause. Remember this when Princess Lexa asks you to bow your head to a lowborn  _ savage _ .” 

“Enough,” barked Anya. She turned to Lexa, her eyes swirling with rage. “Commander, you have heard a confession straight from the murderer’s lips. What are your orders?” 

Lexa stared into Karrow’s black eyes. Her own flesh and blood, calling her a traitor. Calling her tainted. The words rang loudly in her ears and she couldn’t disagree with them, because she often felt that way herself. She  _ was  _ tainted -- descended from monsters who would kill to satisfy their sick sense of superiority. No matter how far she got, how hard she tried to rectify past wrongs, they always seemed to catch up to her. 

It was her worst fear: that she would never escape the shame of being Fire Nation. 

Anya was awaiting her verdict. It would be simple, then, to throw them into the hold and ship them back to the Fire Nation for her father’s punishment. Or, she could offer them to Abby as part of the reparations. Hell, they could even have a public execution, although those were a very rare occurrence and only for the worst of crimes. 

“The water,” Lexa felt herself say. She still stared into Karrow’s eyes, reflecting her own hatred and disgust back at him.  The men from Lexa’s guard stepped forward, lifting the murderers to their feet by their shackles. They were waiting for her to continue. 

“Chain them to lead weights,” Lexa spoke in a steely voice. “Throw them into the water. And leave them to drown.” 

She broke eye contact and strode away, feeling Karrow's black gaze burning into her like a poison until she was finally out of sight.


	4. Clarke

Clarke’s boots cut through the thick snow like little leather snow plows. Chunky flakes of the stuff drifted down lazily from the sky, settling on her blond eyelashes, the back of her neck, and other places that stung from cold. 

The only sound was the crunch of ice under her soles. 

As she trekked away from the towering walls of the city, a weight was lifted from her chest. Miles and miles of blanketed snow stretched out before her; a snuggly polar bear pup was tucked in the crook of her arm; and out here, she could almost pretend that she wasn’t a princess set to be married in two weeks -- she was simply a waterbender in her natural element. 

When she was out of the confines of the palace, she understood why Raven had decided to leave in the first place. It was far lonelier among stuffy dignitaries than it was on the tundra. 

The air steadily grew smokier, and she saw a tiny puff of black smoke curling through the air before she came upon the forge. Broken-down snowmobiles littered the yard with various scraps and mechanisms laying around. The dark metal siding of the workshop gleamed in white sunlight, and the garage door was stuck halfway open so Clarke could see inside. She glimpsed the tips of a pair of scuffed boots peeking out from under a Sato mobile. 

“Raven?” She called out, wanting to give the girl a warning. Power tools and surprises didn’t mix well -- she’d learned that the hard way. But it wasn’t necessary, as the mechanic rolled out from under the vehicle and gave her a lopsided grin like she’d known she was there all along. 

“Clarke! It’s about time you came around! I had to hear about the proposal from Octavia.” 

At the mention of her engagement, Clarke’s smile faded, though she did feel a bit guilty. Part of her had wanted to tell Raven -- mostly so she could vent about it -- but another, bigger part wanted to keep it to herself. If Raven knew, it just made it more real. 

“Yeah… about that--” 

Raven held up her hand. “Look, Clarke, I know how you feel about marriage. And if I didn’t know, I’d see it written all over your face. I get it. Why do you think I moved all my stuff out here? The minute I turned sixteen your mom kept getting on me about that Wick guy, and I knew I’d never be welcome there without a charm around my throat.” 

Clarke was speechless. Raven leaving the city had been a major stunt -- it’s all she’d heard about around the palace for a month. A woman -- a non-bender, at that -- shirking her duties to become a mechanic… it was unheard of. Totally badass, in Clarke’s opinion, but still taboo. Clarke hadn’t known she’d done it to avoid a forced marriage. 

“I didn’t know,” was all she could say. 

Raven threw her another half-grin before fully opening the garage. “Well, now you do. Come on, I’ll make you some coffee and we can talk about it.” 

So Clarke clamored around the snowmobiles and into the shop, marveling at the open hood of the Sato mobile and finding a place to sit on one of the many work benches. The place was cluttered and smelled strongly of oil, but it was homey and warm. A huge stone oven churned out smoke and sparks in the back corner, and in the other corner was a door that led to a cramped bedroom and bathroom. To the right, Raven was leaning over a grimy sink and countertop, where a stained metal contraption whirred to life: Her prized espresso maker. 

At the insistent wriggling under Clarke’s coat, she lifted her arm and gently pulled out the polar bear pup. He had only just opened his eyes that morning. He stared at her a moment before quietly sniffing the air -- his wet nose twitching in excitement at the new smells -- and curling up in her lap. 

“I missed you,” Clarke told Raven. It was true. Even with her busy schedule, she’d never gone so long without seeing her friend. 

“Of course you did, princess,” Raven replied, throwing a wink over her shoulder as she steamed the milk. “You’ll never find a better cup of coffee in the whole North Pole.” 

Clarke rolled her eyes. “I’ll never find  _ another  _ cup of coffee. And I still don’t get how you convinced someone to ship that thing here from Republic City,” she said, gesturing at the coffee maker. Raven patted it fondly as it gurgled out a shot of espresso. 

“The art of persuasion. Just one of my many talents.” 

The older girl carried over two steaming cups of coffee and Clarke accepted one gratefully, burning her tongue on the bitter taste. Raven’s coffee came in two settings: black and  _ extra- _ black. The first time she’d tried it she’d nearly spit it out, shouting, “ _ God,  _ Raven, this tastes like motor oil!” But the mechanic had simply laughed at her and said, “You know, I think I’ll call it that. Raven’s motor oil. Has a nice ring to it.” 

Clarke’s lips twitched into a small smile at the memory. 

“So,” Raven started, not one to mince words. “What are you gonna do about Finn?” 

Clarke gave her a look. “What do you mean, what am I gonna do? He asked me to marry him. I said yes. I think you can guess what comes next.” 

Raven arched an eyebrow, although she was momentarily distracted by the polar bear dog. She reached out to scratch him behind the ear. “Alright, let’s try this again. Why did you say yes?” 

Her answer came quickly. “The same reason you ran away. I had to.” She looked mournfully down at her polar bear dog, who was beginning to snore. “I don’t-- I don’t have another option, Ray. I can’t open a snowmobile shop in the tundra. I’m the  _ princess _ , and I have a responsibility to my people.” 

“A responsibility to your people, or a responsibility to your mom?” 

“I don’t really see the difference,” Clarke said bitterly. She took another drink of coffee, lavishing in the acrid flavor she’d come to crave. Maybe the same thing would happen with Finn. Maybe someday, if she just kept trying hard enough, she’d realize she actually wanted him after all. 

But Raven knew her too well for that. She set down her cup and tipped forward, her hands gripping Clarke’s forearms. Clarke rarely saw her like this -- so serious and sure. 

“I know it doesn’t feel like it, Clarke, but you have all the options in the world. And the most important responsibility you have is to yourself. That’s why I live here now. That’s why you’re gonna leave Finn. You’re not gonna build some crappy shop out in the middle of nowhere, you’re gonna go to Republic City like you’ve always wanted. You  _ belong  _ there -- your dad knew it, and so do I.” 

Tears stung her eyes, but she brushed them away before one could fall. A shaky breath escaped her lips. Her thoughts were bouncing around in her head like a swarm of angry buzzard wasps. 

“Your shop isn’t crappy, Ray,” she said, and Raven huffed out a laugh. She extracted her hands from Clarke’s arms and sat back, looking at the blonde with a mixture of fondness and exasperation. 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t try to sweet-talk me now. You lost your chance with me long ago, palace girl.” 

They broke into a fit of giggles, and the moment lost all seriousness. As they sipped their coffee and basked in the warmth of the roaring oven, exchanging jokes and stories, Clarke was grateful for her friend. There were times for hard advice and times for laughter. And she hadn’t laughed in a long while. 

~~

By the time Clarke was within city walls, the sun was already nearing the horizon. It was a good thing her mother had been holed up in meetings all day, preparing for the festival, or she wouldn’t have escaped notice so easily. 

The walk back through the snow had given her some time to think. Raven’s words were still echoing in her ears.  _ You have all the options in the world.  _ It certainly didn’t feel like it. And all that stuff about Republic City... is that really what Clarke wanted? Had her dad wanted it for her? 

It was such an abstract concept, imagining this alternate future, that she found herself chuckling. After all, who would she really be without the four walls of the palace? Would she even recognize herself? 

“Princess!” A voice called out. “Hey, wait up!” 

Clarke turned to see Finn jogging toward her, his hands on his hips and his breathing labored. His hair was down for once, which she rarely ever saw, and as he caught up to her he brushed it out of his eyes. There was a boyish grin on his face. 

“You’re just the person I was hoping to run into,” he said. Funny, Clarke thought, as she’d been dreading running into him. But she plastered a smile to her face anyway. It wasn’t his fault that she didn’t want to marry him -- she just needed to get over it so they could get on with their life together. 

“Hi,” she replied lamely. But Finn didn’t seem to notice her lack of enthusiasm. Instead, he stepped forward eagerly and planted a kiss on her cold lips. 

Kissing Finn wasn’t awful, or slobbery, or anything like that. It was just… well, it was just kissing Finn. They’d been doing it since she was thirteen, so it was familiar, at least. 

He stepped back and stared into her eyes, and Clarke wondered, not for the first time, if she could ever love him the way he loved her. There was a pang of guilt in her chest because she knew the answer was no. Then, to her relief, his gaze shifted downward to the ball of fluff in her arms. 

“Who’s this little guy?” he asked, leaning down to pet the sleeping pup. 

“He doesn’t have a name yet,” Clarke replied truthfully. She’d pondered it for a while -- shooting down about a million of Octavia’s suggestions -- but nothing had felt right. 

“Hmm,” Finn said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “How about Nuktuk? Or Kuruk?” 

Clarke laughed a little at that. “You want to name him after a movie star and an avatar?” 

Finn shrugged. “He deserves only the best. Just like you.” He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek before grabbing her hand. “Come on, I have something to show you.” 

Walking through the city with Finn was just like kissing him. The familiarity of it -- his warm hand tugging at hers, his big smile radiating out into the world -- made her feel safe, if not slightly hollow inside. She knew no one would question it. In fact, she usually received quite a few envious stares from younger girls, and old ladies would fawn over them. “Such a perfect match!” they always exclaimed. “You’ll make such beautiful babies.” 

That comment grated her -- like she was only good for hanging on Finn’s arm and making babies. But she knew they meant well, so she only smiled and thanked them. 

She’d been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t realized he’d led her all the way to the Spirit Oasis. She had to stoop low to fit through the small doorway, and was immediately washed in a peaceful aura. The air smelled like grass. 

When she stepped into the oasis, the pup squirmed from his place in her coat and set about exploring the cavern. Finn entered from behind her and put his hand on the small of her back.

The moon shone brilliantly upon them. A small flower bloomed under its warm glow. 

“I made this for you,” Finn whispered, kneeling near the flower. She looked at him, and he blushed. “Well, I didn’t  _ make  _ it. I had it shipped in from Ba Sing Se. It’s a moonflower. Do you like it?” 

There was an uncomfortable weight on her chest. She nodded, not trusting her words. 

“When we started dating, I thought,  _ God, what’s she doing with me? _ ” Finn’s eyes traced the little flower as he spoke; its petals unfurling to reveal a stripe of bright blue inside. 

“You’ve always been too good, too kind for me. But it made me realize that I have to be better -- I have to be better so I can be the kind of man you deserve. I may not be the strongest warrior or the most gifted waterbender, and I’m really not even good with words. But I love you, Clarke. And I know I’ll be the best husband to you.” 

The worst part was she believed him. He’d be an amazing husband and father. He was the one who deserved better. 

“I know you will be, Finn,” she said, pulling him into a tight embrace so he couldn’t see her cry. “I couldn’t ask for anyone better.” 

She thought about the history and heartbreak of the oasis, where a girl had been torn from the arms of her lover. Now, moonlight spilled achingly upon every blade of grass. The koi fish danced their sacred rhythm. A boy who loved her planted a flower of his devotion. 

As she stared up into the night sky, she wished she could be like the Moon Spirit, who was never meant for this world in the first place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? How did you feel about Raven's introduction? Also, terribly sorry about the Clarke/Finn interaction, but not to worry -- Clarke and Lexa are meeting in the next chapter.


End file.
